


Candy Hearts

by Damalia (Achrya)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Leverage Fusion, Language, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 09:59:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6001780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achrya/pseuds/Damalia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s Jean’s first time playing lead on one of their cons. Mikasa has the perfect tactic to make sure it works out.</p><p> </p><p>A Leverage AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Candy Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been watching a lot of Leverage lately. A lot. So. Here we are, a Valentine’s day (kinda) themed retelling of ‘The French Connection Job’

It was Valentine’s Day and the decor of the restaurant reflected that in a tastefully subtle way. The lighting was low enough to be called ‘romantic’, every table was topped with a flickering candle and a vase full of freshly cut pink roses. Even the waitstaff were wearing soft pink button downs instead of the usual white. Couples sat across from each other, all dressed nicely, some leaning close and talking softly while others held hands over the crisp white tablecloths.

It was nice. He almost wished they were actually out to enjoy it and not burn it and it’s owner straight to the ground. Figuratively speaking of course, much to Eren and Annie’s disappointment.

Marco glanced around the restaurant, finding Erwin and Mikasa easily. He inclined his head towards them, got a slowly blink from Mikasa in return. then turned his attention to the rest of his surroundings in order to get a good idea of where everyone was.

Annie and Armin were, he knew, in the back acting as members of the kitchen staff. He didn’t expect to see much of them throughout the night. Eren was playing waitstaff and, in fact, was listing the daily specials with an expression on his face that could only be called bored.

Out of the corner he could see their mark, celebrity chef Dirk (One name) was talking to his head lackey and trying to subtly indicate in their direction. He could tell their focus was on Jean.

Jean who looked…different. He’d taken his piercings out for the occasion, left the tight t-shirts and flannel at home to don a simple black button down and black slacks, and was sporting a dark brown wig. Even his ever present smirk was shelved for the evening.

Marco was almost positive he didn’t like it. Jean looked fine but it wasn’t…Jean.

He pushed the thought away, gaze flickering back to their mark, then nudged Jean’s foot under the table. The only acknowledgement he got was Jean’s arm coming up to brush a strand of dark brown hair behind his ear. The crescent shaped ‘birthmark’ they’d painted on the inside of his wrist was visible for a moment.

 _“Alright.”_ Mikasa’s voice crackled in the in-ear receiver. _“Looks like they bought it.”_

“We’ll have one of the spring rolls, the caviar, and the special.” Jean was using his ‘rich and spoiled’ voice while looking down his nose at Eren; Eren nodded stiffly and smiled in a way that looked almost painful before turning of his heel. Marco watched as he was intercepted by a tense looking Dirk.

So far everything was going according to plan.

It was opening night at Figaro, Dirk’s latest restaurant venture. A month ago Figaro had belonged to an old friend of Erwin, Marie Dok and had been more about helping at trouble people find a trade by training and hiring them to work in the kitchen. Dirk had come on as an investor, supposedly interested in the cause, then forced Marie out.

Violently.

Marie had contacted them from the hospital and begged them to help get the restaurant back. Erwin had accepted, then vanished for a few days to (probably) wallow and drink himself half to death (again), before coming back with a plan.

First they’d handled the head chef (by paying him a large amount of money and getting him a job elsewhere) then gotten Annie hired in his place. She’d hired Armin as a sous chef, though apparently he was the actual worse at everything, and Eren as a server. After a few weeks of recon and cozying up to Dirk they’d found out he was running some sort of illegal truffle scam or…something equally as ridiculous sounding with help from the Russian mob. Marco was vague on the exact details because Erwin and Mikasa had been handling that part of things.

Normally he would have taken one of the long con face to face roles but he was busy playing ‘moral support’. Jean, lucky for them, bore a resemblance to a well regarded food critic (or, rather, a resemblance to what people thought the critic looked like since no one really ‘knew’) known for make-or-break reviews which meant Dirk would be busy kissing his ass all night.

This was Jean’s first big job period and everyone had seemed to think it was a good idea that Marco came along to make sure everything went smoothly. He was confident enough in Jean’s ability; he’d been working with the other man for months, teaching him everything he knew and honing his acting skills for stuff just like this.

Jean was a natural; there was just something about him that people responded to and, most importantly, wanted to believe in and follow.

More than saying the right things or making the right motions it was that quality that was going to make Jean a good, if not great, grifter.

“Hello!” Dirk sidled up to the table, a sickly smile on his face and sweat dotting his brow. “I’m Dirk, the owner, and I’ll be your server tonight! Is there anything I can-”

“Ah ah!” Jean held up a hand, haughty expression firmly in place, the waved it dismissively.

“Good then.” Dirk’s expression was pinched as he stepped away. Marco watched and, once he was out of earshot, snorted.

“You’re good at this being a douchebag thing.”

Jean laughed quietly then shrugged. “Well I used to be rich, remember? Acting superior when you’ve done nothing at all worthwhile is the second thing they teach in private school.”

 _“Don’t forget Jean, you’re a critic pretending to be a normal person on a date.”_ Mikasa’s voice came to life again. _“So look like it.”_

Jean’s lips parted like he was going to say something then he looked down, lips pressed into a thin line. They couldn’t talk back to Mikasa since she and Annie were the only ones with mics, hidden in matching lockets hanging around their necks.

Not that there was anything to say. They were here to do a job and that’s what they were going to do. Pretending to be on a date wasn’t going to hard; body language and how to look ‘interested’ in a person were among the first things he’d taught Jean.

He was confident Jean would be able to handle this.

Marco reached across the table and place his hand over one of Jean’s before leaning forward like he had something to say he didn’t want others to overhear. Amber eyes widened fractionally and Jean’s tongue darted out to drag over his lips.

“What’s the first thing they teach in private school?”

Jean looked confused for a moment then tilted his head towards Marco as his voice dropped to a whisper. “That everyone jerks off together and that it’s totally not gay.”

Marco choked on air.

Jean flashed him a smirk. Before Marco could voice his thoughts on that matter, or let an image of Jean jerking off fully take hold of his brain, Annie’s voice, low and angry, growled into his ear.

_“‘Kasa, you and Eren’s boy is about five seconds from dy-”_

_“Is this really what we’re doing?_ ” Armin’s voice, distant and distorted by distance from Annie’s mic.. _“Am I just your go-for now Annie? The supplies guy?”_

 _“Take those down to Connie!”_ Annie snapped. _“And stop eating the food! Where were you raised, a fucking barn?”_

Annie regaled them with the many ways Armin was nothing but trouble in the kitchen for the next five minutes, not even stopping when the sounds of rough male voices barking orders and then cursing in Russian could be heard in the background.

Marco wished he could ask about what was going on back there, though logic dictated it involved their truffle smuggling gangsters, and only became that much more curious when Eren came through the kitchen door with a tray laden with food, a vicious looking grin on his lips, and torn skin on his knuckles.

Dirk met Eren at their table and, with an exaggerated flourish, started placing plates between them and describing in almost dizzying detail what each was. Jean nodded along, face showing interest but eyes glazed over.

Finally Dirk left; Marco could see from the corner of his eyes that the man only went as far as the hostess station and was watching them with an openly anxious expression.

“Okay.” Marco said as he reached for what looked like tiny orange pearls on a cracker. “Microexpression. Just a hint of a smile when you take your first bite. Micro is the key.”

Jean was staring blankly at a pale brown mass of…something on top of toast but, with a quiet sigh, brought it up. First he sniffed it, then eyed it again, before finally bringing it to his lips to take a bite. Marco’s heart sank; even though Jean’s lips made an attempt at going up it looked more like the grimace of someone who’d found out they were sleeping with their half-sibling (Marco knew a guy) than anything else.

 _“Well that didn’t work.”_ Mikasa said, a hint of laughter in her voice. _“Dirk looks like he’s about five seconds from storming into the back.”_

 _“What? Does he not like it?”_ Annie demanded. _“You don’t like my food Jean?”_

Jean made a soft frantic noise.

Marco chewed his own food slowly, keeping his expression neutral as he tried to think of a solution.

This wasn’t going to work. Jean was good but there was a certain something to microexpression; it was harder to pull off than just about anything else. There were a lot of little things that went with one of Jean’s smile: the way his eyes wrinkled at the corners and brightened, the way the left corner was always a little higher than the right and the barest hint of teeth that came with real genuine enjoyment.

Without those things it was…like watching Annie smile after she’d broken someone’s wrist: weird and a little terrifying.

He had no idea what to say to get one of those rare soft smiles out of Jean. Up until now they’d just happened, seemingly at random, and were always gone as soon as Jean realized someone was watching him.

 _“Jean, try something else”_ Mikasa again but this time she was using the voice that was usually reserved for Armin and Eren: soothing and encouraging. Jean reached for a small elegant looking spring roll. _“Take a bite but this time I want you to think about how you felt when you found out Marco was a conman we sent to get information from you.”_

This reaction was instantaneous. Slightly furrowed brows, lips down turned in the corner, a hint of stiffness in his shoulders.

Marco shoved another cracker into his mouth, Mikasa’s praise falling on deaf ears.

Dirk darted over to them, apologies falling from his lips, and grabbed the spring roll plate. Eren appeared behind him, smoothly grabbing the plate of spring rolls from Dirk’s hand and placing a bowl of black colored noodles in front of Jean and a plate with a small bird and vegetables in front of Marco before heading for the kitchen door.

It was almost disturbing how good he was.

 _“Okay good but Erwin says we need you to show something good to keep Dirk from getting too anxious and heading back. Try the pasta.”_ Jean made a fast at his plate but did as he was told _“Take a bite, blink once, then think about the first time you saw Marco. ”_

The only things that kept Marco from turning around and shock were A. that he was a professional and B. that it worked. Jean’s face smoothed out, the tension in his body vanishing, and maybe it was the flickering of the candlelight playing tricks on Marco but he swore he saw a hint of color in Jean’s cheeks.

He was staring. He knew he was staring and that he needed to stop staring, especially when Jean’s eyes darted over to him, but he couldn’t. So instead they were just…staring at each other.

 _“Alright. Armin, you’re on. Get to the safe.”_ Mikasa directed. _“You two keep doing what you’re doing. It’s going great. Next I want you to think about Marco without his shirt.”_

Marco sighed.

—

The job was over. Dirk was in police custody for smuggling an endangered plant species, his lackey had gotten his ass kicked by Eren, Erwin had given the money from the safe to Marie to get the restaurant back to doing what she wanted it to do, and it was another job well done.

Marco was sitting in one of the booths of Mike’s bar, legs stretched out in front of him. The lights were turned low, the doors shut for the night, and Mike was at the register counting down. The place was still covered in paper and foil hearts, confetti littered the floor, and balloons floated lazily in the air.  

A cupcake topped in fluffy pink icing, dusted with red sprinkles, and sporting a white chocolate covered candy heart in the center of the icing pile.

The door to the back room swung open; Jean and Armin walked out together, both smiling. Jean’s expression froze, became strained, and then he looked down at Armin who nodded before heading for the front door.

“Later Marco.”

“Bye Armin.” He waved at the blonde as he slipped out of the door.  

Jean followed at a more sedate pace and stopped by the table, hands curls into loose fists at his sides. He looked more like himself, wig ditched and blue plaid shirt on over the black one he’d been wearing all night.  “So. Um. About earlier.”

Marco sat up straighter and swung his legs over to make space and pushed the cupcake closer to Jean. “Got you something.”

“…isn’t this left over from Mike’s party?”

“Shut up and eat the cupcake Jean. Jerk.”

Jean pursed his lips, fingers twitching, then slid into the seat next to him. He reached out and dragged the small paper plate closer to him. Marco leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, smiling as Jean leaned against him.

“You think about me shirtless a lot or-”

“Shut up.”


End file.
